Epiphany
by lysjelonken
Summary: Patrick Jane has an epiphany. Maybe too late. JISBON, possible character death
1. Chapter 1

**Epiphany**

**Oneshot that came to mind… Ended up angsty as most of my stuff does.**

**Disclaimer: Isn't it clear by now?

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Everyone has at least one of them in a lifetime.

An epiphany.

You'd think it's some kind of a rare _thing_ that only happens to lucky chosen ones, but it isn't and it doesn't.

It could be the moment when you're standing in the line, waiting to apply for college, and just as they're about to say 'next', you realize, for the very first time what you want to be when you grow up.

It could be the moment you walk down an aisle overly decorated with flowers, and you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with the person waiting for you at the other end.

It could be while sitting in a pew at church, and suddenly discovering some deep, hidden religious meaning that changes your life forever – it happens.

For some it's triggered by something shocking: a near-death experience, or the loss of a loved one.

He's survived both of those things (well, sort of), and never did he ever have anything close to an epiphany – unless, of course, deciding on devoting your life to vengeance counts.

He decides it doesn't. An epiphany is a feeling of sudden and complete clarity. Clarity implies _clear_, implies _clean_, implies _pure_. Revenge-driven, bloody missions do not count as an epiphany.

Not like the one he had today, anyway.

His first epiphany (good one, at least) hit him today like a strike of lightening. Nothing else could really describe it well enough.

A shock, followed by blinding light, blinding clarity.

Leaving him frozen and speechless and disbelievingly glued to his place.

Leaving him with a feeling of wanting to kick himself in the ass for not seeing it earlier.

X

It was a completely normal day today.

There was nothing distinguishable, nothing noteworthy.

A case like any other, some high-flying, big shot friend of a senator got murdered and the CBI was called in to investigate. They were at the palatial apartment building where he lay face down on the floor – dead.

It was there where someone fired the first shot.

The first that was followed by many, many shots in succession.

He ducked as he normally did, behind the SUV. He heard the shouts of the team, the shots fired in return.

He heard her voice bellow above the rest to whoever was shooting to drop their weapons and other threatening phrases.

And he heard her small, strained exclaim of pain through the ruckus.

Somehow, in all the flurried drama, either Cho or Rigsby (he forgets) snuck up behind one of the shooters and managed to regain control over the situation.

As customary, he yelled out for her. He always did so, and he wasn't really sure why. Possibly to get help from her, possibly to see if she was alright? Possibly all of the above.

But she didn't answer when he called. She didn't move to pull herself up, holding her shoulder or arm or leg where the bullet scraped her.

She didn't even raise a hand or something or yell for help.

In the noise of the crime scene, as police officers escorted a small group of men with guns, her voice wasn't there.

He was the first one who saw her leg sticking out from behind the SUV.

And the see the crimson blood already pooling beneath her.

X

He was pacing.

_Pacing._

Patrick Jane didn't pace. He walked with a swagger, he occasionally ran when danger threatened. He'd even consider leaping like a fool to safety, if the situation called for it. But he never, _ever_ paced.

But here he was, pacing in the cold, tiled waiting room of the hospital, waiting. It's been hours – _hours_ – since they arrived in the ambulance.

Lisbon, stiller and paler than he's ever seen her, with the small crowd of green-clad paramedics buzzing around her, attaching wires and pumping her chest and screaming out orders for him to get the hell away from the patient!

He insisted in an evenly loud voice that there was no way he wasn't riding along in the ambulance. So he sat the entire ride, squashed in the corner of the ambulance, watching in horror the way the colour seemed to fade more and more from her cheeks every second. His eyes stinging with tears that he didn't know could still be there. Especially for someone who wasn't dead and buried and to be avenged.

His eyes kept flicking to the place – the big, bloody _hole_, defiling the smooth, ivory skin of her abdomen – where the paramedics have lifted her shirt to reveal the bullet wound.

"It's too deep in there." They kept saying to each other, seemingly unaware of his presence. Then: "Shit! I can't find the bleeder!" Their voices were filled with anxiety and a film of sweat glistened on each of their brows. "She's going to need emergency surgery. Tell Bob to step on it!"

_They can't step on it hard enough_, he kept thinking. But somehow his voice had left him, and he was frozen and speechless for the first time in his life.

When they skidded to a stop at the hospital, the paramedics flew her out, and he was left alone.

They were long out, rushing her to the ER, when he gathered the brainpower to tell his legs to stand up and leave.

Somehow he ended up here, where he could pace and harass nurses for updates. Updates that never came soon enough, and were never specific enough, and were never satisfying.

At all.

"They're doing all they can, sir, please be patient, sir, it's a high pressure case, sir, and you're starting to annoy me so sit and try to calm down! Sir."

He tried to. He closed his eyes and tried to escape to his mind palace where everything was under his control.

But the only things that sprung up in his mind palace were memories of her…

_He walks into the bullpen, sees her sitting at her desk. She's got an angry expression on her face. He thinks to himself that it's kind of becoming on her…_

"_Don't bother, I'm still mad." She says._

_He smiles, and places a little origami frog on her desk. This'll be good, he thinks._

"_A frog?" She says incredulously. "Well, that makes everything better."_

_He can't help but smile. But as he turns away and walks, he thinks: One… Two… Three…_

_POP! _

_The little frog jumps out and he hears her slight gasp. Feels, rather than sees, how she startles and jumps a little in her chair. _

_It makes him smile…_

_Then they're at the high school reunion._

_They're bantering, as they ever so often do, and then a song starts to play. More than Words, by The Extremes, if he's not mistaken… _

_And she smiles nostalgically – he etches that incredibly rare smile into a wall in his mind palace – and she says: "I used to love this song."_

_She wants to dance. "Well, obviously you want to dance." He extends his hand._

_She refuses, makes lame excuses about work. So he replies teasingly. "You can pretend that I'm that mean, cold-hearted guy you always used to worship from afar."_

_Then she agrees, somewhat begrudgingly, but with a smile. _

_He leads her onto the floor, and they sway softly, gently to the music. Her head is rested against him, and he tries to ignore the infiltrating, slightly intoxicating scent of cinnamon, because it's obviously just his overactive observation skills going a little bit crazy on him. He continues interrogating her about what instrument she played in high school all the while._

_And for just a moment, he forgets about the ghosts that haunt him every other moment of the day._

_Then they're in a crate, heading to somewhere unknown, and she's mad at him for being an idiot._

_He tells her he'll always save her; she tells him she knows she'll lose her job over him one day…_

_She's beautiful in the low light…_

A million moments, each more vivid than the next. In each memory, he realizes how much there was to say that he didn't; he realizes how her eyes shine when she smiles, how they light up like green flames when they argue.

And with each passing second, the regret grows and grows and grows.

And then it happens.

The epiphany: he loves her.

How could he not have seen it? How could he not have seen _her?_

Sure he saw Lisbon the pocket rocket Senior agent whom he loved to mess with; he saw her as a friend and as a person, he saw the cracks in her mask when her past came up and the insecurities that lay thinly veiled in her eyes. He saw her as a woman – really, he did. He knew she beautiful and eligible – especially to men like Walter Mashburn. In retrospect, he wants to kick himself for reacting the way he did to Lisbon and Walter. He pushed them together because he felt something he didn't know (or at least, wasn't used to anymore).

Jealousy.

Because she was Lisbon, and even though he didn't admit it to himself, she was _his_.

He loved her.

_Oh no… I love her._

His eyes lock on the doors of the ER, where he knows she is. Inside, she's probably lying on her gurney being resuscitated by a small crowd of doctors and nurses.

Cold and alone and scared out of her mind.

On the very edge between life and death – the same edge that she's balanced so well throughout her childhood and then her career.

But she tripped and fell and now she's hanging in the balance…

_I love you_, his heart yells. _Please don't leave me._

_I don't think I'll survive it again.

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**What do you guys think? Currently a oneshot, but if I get enough positive feedback, I might reconsider and make it a two- or three-shot. **

**Much love, **

**Zanny**


	2. Chapter 2

**Epiphany: Chapter 2**

**OH my gosh! Loving all this feedback I got! You guys are insane, and making me feel so much better after my little writing-dry spell. **

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine

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It was the early morning hours when the doctor finally came to call him in the waiting room.

The team had already been here to hear how she was, but she was in surgery at the time.

They tried to comfort him for a while, but their words fell on deaf ears. So, finally, it turned into sitting in anxious silence, staring at the door, while Rigsby munched on cheese curls. Finally, a nurse passed the waiting room. After being stopped by Jane and harassed for an update she didn't have, she convinced the team to go home, shower and eat. Her words were blankly ignored by Jane, of course.

That was around 11PM. Now it was past 2AM.

His back was killing him from sitting on the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, after his knees decided that they've had enough of pacing. His eyelids were heavy – _so very, very heavy…_ - but he refused to succumb to exhaustion and close his eyes for even a moment. His stomach was growling violently, but he was too afraid that if he took the three minute-walk to the cafeteria and back, that he'd miss something.

That he'd miss an update, or that she'd wake up and call for him…

He was sitting like this when the doctor (annoyed expression already in place) entered and called for him.

"Mister Jane?"

He jumped up, suddenly at full attention. "Is she out of surgery? Is she okay?"

His hands flew up to attempt to calm him. "She's out of surgery. But it's been a long one, and she lost a lot of blood. Now, there were some complications in the surgery, and I don't want you to be shocked when you see her. She stopped breathing and she had to be put on a ventilator."

"A ventilator? How did one little gunshot do that?"

"As I said, there were complications. Her heart stopped-"

"WHAT?" He yelled.

"She's stable now." He said, calmingly. "And you can see her."

Jane practically ran past him and rushed to where, by now, he knew she'd be.

And when he saw her, his heart almost stopped as well.

She lay on the hospital bed, even paler than before. Something plastic and foreign was in her mouth, presumably shoved down her throat, and a plastic tube went through her nose.

She was hooked on beeping machines that stood all around her.

He rushed to her bedside and took her hand in his – it was cold.

It scared him so much.

It wasn't like he got to hold Lisbon's hand all day or anything, but her warmth was one of the things he loved most about her. He could feel her silky warmness radiating from her every time he walked close to her, every time their hands brushed, every time he hid behind her small, gun-wielding frame.

Teresa Lisbon isn't this person lying in front of him. She's not still and cold and weak – she's the strongest, most vigorous force-of-nature he's ever known. She's always feeling and always making you feel.

She's brave to the point of blind self-sacrifice. Always knowingly putting herself in grave danger to save him or someone else. And even though she's saving his life constantly, he promised that he would always save hers.

And he didn't. He couldn't.

This wasn't her… He refused to believe this happened to _her_.

A nurse enters with her file and starts checking her vitals, filling things in on the file.

"Is she going to wake up?" He asks; his voice is shaky.

The nurse hesitates before answering. "I don't know, sir. She's stable for now, but I won't lie to you: sometimes people just don't wake up after a surgery like hers."

He nods slowly and feels the tears stinging his eyes once more.

He feels the nurse's sorrowful eyes on his left hand. "Is she your wife?" She asks.

"No… She's my boss. Sort of." He said. Once more realizing how blind he was.

"Oh." The nurse said, obviously silently judging him for his behavior towards his "sort of" boss.

He wasn't even going to bother with correcting her.

He silently sat by her bedside, his eyes glued to her. He held her cold hand between his, rubbing it, gently trying to bring some warmth to it.

Somehow her presence, even cold and lifeless and hooked to machines, brought calmness over him. Not complete calmness, obviously, but enough to send him quickly hurdling into restless slumber.

X

"Jane?" Her voice was distressed, calling out his name anxiously. But, even so, it was like music to his ears.

"Teresa!" He called as he woke. His head felt like lead from the jumpy wake-up, but that wasn't important right now.

She was sitting up in her hospital bed, her eyes wide and green and scared. Briefly, he realized she was off the ventilator and they must've taken it out while he slept.

"Teresa, you're alright!" Tears of pure, unadulterated elation filled his eyes and spilled down his cheeks.

"J-Jane..? What's going on?" She's confused now.

He didn't answer, just took her in his arms, her body now radiating that familiar warmth, and wept. He whispered her name over and over in disbelieving happiness. "You're alright…"

"Yes, of course I'm alright! What's wrong with _you_?" She asked, practically pushing him away from her. "Why are you hugging me? And calling me Teresa?"

He took her face in his hands, cupping her cheeks and looking her in the eyes. "I love you. I love you so, _so_ much. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, and I'm sorry I took you for granted as much as I did, and please, _please_, never leave me again! I love you."

He could see in her expression that she was more confused than ever, but under the bewilderment, there was a spark of hope in her eyes.

And he knew she loved him back…

X

"Mister Jane!" The nurse called, waking him. His head snapped up in a bewildered jolt.

"W-What?" He asked. Immediately his eyes went to her: she was lying on the hospital bed, still pale, still unmoving. The ventilator still down her throat.

It was a dream.

She never woke up, he was never able to tell her he loved her.

"Mister Jane, you need to get home."

"I'm not leaving her." He managed. Even to himself, his voice sounded strange: he could hear the underlying heartache, the disappointment that his dream was only that.

"Mister Jane… You've been sleeping here by her bedside for hours, and you've been in the waiting room even longer. If she's getting better, it won't happen in the hour it'll take you to get home, take a shower and get something to eat. You're not helping her by doing this. Go home to your wife, Mister Jane."

He sighs and rolls his eyes wearily. "My wife is dead. She has been for years." He said nothing more, just diverted his eyes back to Lisbon, and gripped onto her hand more firmly.

The nurse didn't say anything, just lowered her eyes. He knew that if she looked at him, there'd be pity in them.

He didn't care anymore.

Yesterday he would've hated the fact that she – _anyone_ – looked at him like that. But a person's priorities shift dramatically when life as you know it changes.

"I'm not leaving her." He said again, his voice barely a whisper. "And I won't leave until she wakes up."

He heard the nurses slow, sad footsteps echo hollowly a few moments later.

And then, again, he was alone with his sleeping beauty.

"You _are_ waking up, aren't you?" He asked her.

His voice filled the space, lonely.

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**What did ya think? I really wanted to do a chap like this before Lisbon's fate is revealed. **

**Now the big question: will she wake up? Or won't she? Opinions? Suggestions? Ideas?**

**I'm in desperate need, to reviews are more than welcome. They're encouraged!**

**Much love, Zanny**


	3. Chapter 3

**Epiphany: Chapter 3**

**Love the reviews! This is possibly the most overwhelming response I've ever gotten for a fic, especially this early on! Thanks you guys, you're awesome!**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine

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There's a funny thing about dreams; the things you do and say in them are easy. You could be placed in the most mundane and normal situations and not have any idea what to do. Like that dream that everyone has, about standing up in front of a crowd and then all of a sudden you're naked.

But a dream and just as easily switch things around: in the most difficult situation imaginable, dream-you could say all the right things with unbelievable ease. Because dreams are surreal, and easy, and things appear like magic. _Words_ appear like magic.

In the real world, it's not that easy.

In the real world, when the difficult moments come, sometimes you're left speechless. And all the words you had so ready in your dream disappear, and you stumble over syllables.

Teresa Lisbon woke up. At two in the afternoon, three days after she was shot.

He was dozing by her bedside at the time, his head resting on his folded arms. He wasn't technically allowed in the room – it wasn't visiting hours. But he convinced the nurse, who he suspected was starting to like him. Or, at the very least, become more tolerant of his exhausting ways.

He knew that the three Lisbon brothers were waiting in the waiting room like good little boys. From the little he knew (and figured out from her phone call to Cho that one time she thought they were going to die), her brothers weren't on the best of terms. And as much as he would've loved to be in the company of the three men to decipher more about their enigmatic older sister, he wasn't in the right state of mind to be around three bickering, male replicas of the woman he loves.

The nurses didn't even allow them in, fearing they'd upset other patients with their constant back-and-forth.

So he was alone with her.

Half-sleeping, shallowly (the only form of rest he's gotten since she got shot), and listening to the steady beep-beep-beep of the machine reading her heart rate. It acted as an odd, mechanical, ineffective lullaby; calming him to the point just before sleep, sending him into an exhausted daze of semi-alertness.

And then his lullaby quickened.

At first, he thought it was in his mind, but then he heard a raspy, husky groan originate from somewhere close by.

He slowly opened his eyes, squinting to get used to the harsh, fluorescent lights of the hospital room. What he saw quickly jolted him awake.

She was moving; struggling, fussing a bit. Her eyes were shut tight and she frowned in confusion.

And then she started choking. Her eyes flew open and her hands flew to her mouth, trying to get rid of the strange _thing_ shoved painfully down her throat – the ventilator, that was still in place.

He sat in shock for only a split second, before he called out loudly: "HELP! Nurse, somebody! We need help in here!"

Within moments, nurses surrounded her. They fussed around her, saying things that were probably supposed to be calming, and started pulling a clear liquid into a syringe.

Panic surged through his every vein. The only thing he could think of to do (since his voice had momentarily betrayed him) was to grab her hand and not let go. Somehow, in her kicking-screaming-gagging-panic, their eyes locked. Emerald-green, hazy and tired and vulnerable, met a scared ocean-blue.

And she calmed.

He recognizes the fact that the nurse's injection of morphine into her IV probably helped along, but it had no part in the way she held his gaze. He could tell she was scared, confused and tired. And she looked at him like he was desperate.

Desperation was something he's never seen before in Lisbon.

He's seen her hurt; he's seen her scared; he's seen her embarrassed. He's seen varieties of stress and anxiousness and agitation.

He's seen her have an emotional breakdown, thinking she might've killed a man. But that was mostly fear and nerves and being overwhelmed.

Desperation unsettled him. Maybe because it hit so close to home, because he's felt so desperate so many times in his life, and Lisbon had always been a safe haven from that. She represented everything that wasn't scary and hurtful and _desperate_.

It broke him to see that look in her eye.

He was happy when he saw it fade as the morphine did its stuff. Soon the dreaded emotion was clouded by artificial exhaustion and hidden beneath dark eyelashes.

The nurses then sent him out of the room so that they could get the ventilator out. They told him that she'd wake up again in a few hours, when the morphine wore off. He should go tell her brothers; this is good news!

All the way to the waiting room to tell Lisbon's brothers the fantastic news, Jane thought.

It was unreal. It felt like this was just another dream that he was about to wake up from.

These last few days have been torture; the team had to continue working, on orders from Hightower. They came and went every lunch break and popped in for an hour or so after work every day. And every time they came, it was the same thing: _Jane, you need to get some sleep. Jane, please come eat something. Jane, you need to go take a shower. _

He kept telling them, he was fine. He showered in the bathroom here in Lisbon's hospital room. And every lunch, a nurse would insist on him eating a bag of potato chips or something (he, of course, could never eat, so he'd munch on one or two and then hide the rest under the bed). As for sleep, well…

He didn't need anything. He just needed her.

And she didn't want to wake up.

Now she was waking up, and he was scared shitless.

Not just because of that desperate look in her eyes; that was normal he knew. What else was a person supposed to feel waking up from a coma after a traumatic gunshot wound and hours upon hours of surgery, with a pipe shoved down your throat?

But the fact was now it was real.

In a few hours he, Patrick Jane, would have to tell Teresa Lisbon how he really felt about her. And he was afraid.

He almost scoffed at himself: Patrick Jane, ever-overly-confident, borderline-arrogant lady-killer was _scared_ of a woman's rejection. It seemed a little ironic, after all the big talk about how he could seduce any woman. But she wasn't just _any_ woman. She was his ever after; she was the only thing keeping him alive in this dreary existence of his.

These last days without her had been exceptionally dark (even by his standards). And if he told her he loved her and she didn't feel the same way, it could ruin everything. It would ruin their friendship, their work-relationship… It might even mean that he'd have to be transferred to another team. What would he do then? How would he survive then, in this dark, dark world of his?

He wouldn't.

He couldn't…

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**So there's a cliffy for ya! Now next chap, he's either gonna tell her or wimp out. I haven't quite decided yet. I know you all are like 'He **_**has**_** to tell her!', but… Hmm… What do you think? (Oh yeah, now I'm just soliciting reviews…)**

**Much love, Zanny**


	4. Chapter 4

**Epiphany: Chapter 4**

**Reviewing rockstars. That's what you guys are. Rock. Stars.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine

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She was going to wake up any moment now. He could feel it.

The morphine wore off a while ago, and she was just sleeping it off now. But he had an unbelievable feeling that she was going to be opening those emerald-green eyes of hers within the next hour. And he'd be the first person she sees…

In the last six, seven hours she's been out, he's done everything he could think of to get rid of his little confidence problem. He didn't want to be stuttering when he told the woman he loves…

So he took a quick nap in the on call room, ate an entire pack of stale potato chips and even left the hospital for a twenty minute-interval to go get a quick drink at the bar down the street. He practiced what he was going to say a million times over.

_I'm sorry for being a blind idiot. I love you more than words. Tell me please Teresa that you feel the same way?_

He needed that. And now he was here, ready for her to wake up and tell her everything he needed to. He was ready for this life-changing moment.

And now he was sitting, waiting, as he did before.

Thirty minutes…

Then an hour…

He felt the doubt slowly creep up on him and a newfound exhaustion threaten closer and closer…

How many stories had he heard about people just not waking up after being put on morphine? Especially after a surgery like hers? Panic prickled his limbs.

And then he heard her grunt.

It was a raspy, gruff sound that cracked through her throat, but in that moment he couldn't think of a more beautiful sound.

She was waking.

"Wh-… Where..?" She formed the words loosely, clumsily, as she squinted against the bright hospital lights. He could barely contain his joy and he let out a relieved breath he didn't realize he was holding.

He watched the clean confusion dance in her eyes, and then the grateful relief when she recognized his face. "J-Jane..?" Her voice was raspy and it startled him back into reality.

And in reality, it turns out, stale chips and a shot of whiskey doesn't mean much when the woman you love is lying vulnerable and bare in front of you…

"T-Teresa…" He stuttered her name. He felt tears prickle his eyes and before he could fight them off, a sob wrenched its way out of his throat and spilled the salt rivers down his cheeks. He threw his arms around her and took her into a tight embrace. All the words he planned to say evaporated into thin air.

The words struggled to make their way out of his throat. "Teresa, I… I lo-…"

"TESS!"

He was interrupted by a chorus of calls, coming from three raven-haired boys standing at her door.

He was watching her face when she saw them; he saw the confusion make the easy transition into happiness at seeing the faces of her brothers. He watched her eyes light up. And even though he wanted to chase the bickering brothers out of the hospital for their terrible timing, he wasn't going to.

He backed up a few steps and watched her interact with her family. It was something to see – the tough-as-nails agent who struck fear into any suspect, motherly and soft. She hugged her brothers protectively, reassuring them in hoarse whispers that she was indeed fine.

He sat down on a chair and watched for several minutes. He was really mad at himself right now; there he was, presented with the perfect moment to tell the woman he loved who, above all odds, survived a gunshot, that he wanted her to be his and only his, and what does he do?

He chokes.

Like a third-grader at show and tell.

He wanted to kick himself, hit himself. What was she thinking of him now? She wakes up and Jane - super-suave, mysterious, enigmatic Patrick Jane – starts bawling like a little kid. How was she supposed to love him?

X

It was later now, and her brothers were gone. But hot on their heels came the team (smuggled bear claw and cup of coffee in hand).

They hadn't had a moment alone since she woke, and even though it was killing him, he was reveling in having her back. They were all sitting together on her hospital bed, chatting.

The subject fluidly changed from work, to sports, to something else… he wasn't really paying attention to the conversation anymore. Instead, he found himself watching her speak. Her eyes were like glowing emeralds, warm and inviting.

"Boss, when are they discharging you?" Cho asked. His question got even Jane's attention.

"The doctor said soon, but I can't go home if there isn't someone to look after me. I'll probably have to guilt one of the boys into taking a week or two off. I'm sure Tommy won't mind, he's always up for a vacation."

"No."

The sound of his own voice startled even him. It was defiant; maybe a little too defiant to be completely relevant. He cleared his throat.

"Don't put your brothers out. I'll do it. Really, I'll just be sleeping on a different couch, it's no big deal." He said before she could argue.

"No, no, Jane. Really, that wasn't what I meant. I wasn't fishing for help. I can't expect something like this from you…"

"No, Lisbon. I want to." He said, and his voice became sincere. "It was pretty scary almost losing you. And I'd like to help you get better. Or at least shove your pain meds down your throat when you're too stubborn to take them." He said jokingly.

The team exchanged looks without doing much effort to conceal them.

Reluctantly, Lisbon nodded slowly. "Alright. Thank you."

"It's nothing."

It wasn't nothing. It was a whole lot of something!

And that something was a second chance.

He _was_ going to tell her how he felt, if it was the last thing he did. And this time, he wasn't going to blow it.

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**So I followed suggestions and he's going to play nurse for her now! What do you guys think? Was the chapter suckish? REVIEWS!**

**Much love, Z**


	5. Chapter 5

**Epiphany: Chapter 5**

**You guys are crazy awesome! Lo-lo-love the reviews!**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine

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He turned the key in her front door and opened the door by walking backwards in. His arms are filled with grocery bags and he balanced his near-overflowing cargo meticulously. He backed up, leaving the door wide open.

"Well, come on in. This is _your _house; you're not the one that needs to be shy."

Timidly, Lisbon hopped into the threshold on a crutch – her foot was thickly bandaged up. Apparently, she had also cracked her ankle in the fall, an injury that was originally missed when the doctors where tending to the more pressing matters. When she started complaining about the pain after she got a little more lucid and the medication started to wear off, it was discovered. The only real impact the injury (which was very little, compared to her other troubles) had, was that it extended the time she'd be out of the field.

This did not impress Lisbon at all.

Jane didn't actually mind the fact. More time off meant more time taking care of her, which he was enjoying so much already.

She stayed in the hospital three more days before they let her go home. He went home only once during that time, and that was to go get some clean suits to wear. The nurses started to take a liking to him now that Lisbon was awake and he wasn't all tense and bothered. They even snuck him into the locker rooms so he could shower in the hospital and held friendly conversations while Lisbon slept peacefully.

All three days she was in the hospital (grumbling all the while about how she was fine and should really be allowed to work already and…), he was by her side. He brought her decent meals, since the hospital's menu was balanced somewhere between inedible and unrecognizable. He brought her foot-long sandwiches, bearclaws, Red Delicious apples. Anything that brought a little colour back to her cheeks.

And now she was allowed back home, and he was thrilled. Though looking after her in the hospital was nice (she was adorable when she was grumpy, and her shining smiles of thanks were even better), they were never really alone. Outside the door, there would be an endless stream of nurses and doctors and patients and visitors… If the team wasn't checking in, a nurse was checking her vitals, and when they were gone, she'd receive a phone call from one of her brothers and she'd spend twenty minutes trying to ease their guilt for having to leave.

And in the rare moments of calmness, she would get restless and bored, and beg him to take her out in the wheelchair. Just for walk around the halls for a bit, she'd say, and she'd smile. He couldn't deny her anything when she smiled, he realized. And a round through the halls would turn into a round through the gardens around the hospital.

He couldn't very well tell her when surrounded by strangers, could he?

Well, he probably could, but whenever an opportunity came, he felt the familiar doubt rise up again.

_What if she says no? What if she rejects me? What will happen then?_

So he procrastinated.

He hoped taking her home would mean they would spend more time alone, and then maybe he could find a moment where he wouldn't chicken out.

As he dumped the bags onto the kitchen table, he watched her struggle with her crutches around the coffee table (laden with mail and magazines and coffee cups) and fall down into the couch.

"Lisbon, please don't take offense in this, but your apartment is much messier than the first time I was here." He said, chuckling fondly. He moved to the coffee table and started to gather the coffee cups and straighten some of the mail at the same time.

She flushed embarrassed and chuckled uneasily. "Sorry. Last time you were here it wasn't right after a weekend, so…"

"No worries. It's just that messiness isn't a trait one would associate with you, given your meticulousness in work… It's not bad, just… unexpected." He said, smiling.

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, well. I surprised the great Patrick Jane."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far." Jane said. _But given what I happen to know about messy women… _His thoughts wandered, but he quickly berated himself.

He shouldn't be thinking _those_ kind of thoughts. This wasn't about that. This was about taking care of the woman he loves. _Loves._ As in, respects and cares for.

As he placed the cups into her dishwasher he heard her voice behind him, suddenly much closer than he thought. "Jane, you really don't have to clean up my place. I've got a busted foot, I'm not incapacitated. Besides, my ankle really is fine."

He turned and they were face to face. He briefly wondered how she moved so quickly and quietly on crutches.

The new closeness threw him for a loop; the flush in her cheeks from her embarrassment moments before, the hint of a smile still tugging at her deep dimple…

"Don't be silly." He said, once he found his voice again. "You're not by any means incapacitated, but you are hurt. Let someone take care of you for once in your life, Teresa. Let _me _take care of you."

She didn't reply, just gave a small, grateful smile and look up at him with big, green eyes.

"Now go lie on the couch. Watch a movie, read a book… Vegetate. But now working. You will not clean a single dish or pick up a single piece of laundry or _dare_ look at a case file! Am I understood?" He said with mock-sternness.

"Yes sir." She said, mocking back and giving a small salute.

He swallowed his chuckle, then ushered her out of the kitchen. "Off you go. I'll make you something to eat. You hungry?"

"I don't think I'll ever be hungry again! You've been feeding me fat. I feel like a bus. Probably look like one too…" Her voice was muffled by distance; she was heading to the couch, like he asked.

"You look perfect. You always do." He said quietly. He wasn't sure whether she heard it or not, but there was no reply.

He heard the TV switch on; a low volume. She was cleaning the living room, he knew it.

He smiled fondly and continued picking up dishes and putting them into the dishwasher.

This was going to be an eventful time, he knew it.

* * *

**So here you go… Looking for interesting things that could happen in their stay. More than just average 'fall asleep in each other's arms while watching movies'-thing… Though those things will probably also happen…**

**So this story is turning into much more than originally intended. A oneshot-gone-threeshot-gone-multi-chap is quite an evolution, I'd think. Just wanna say thanks to my lovely loyal reviewers. Here's your chance to throw in all the fluff you want!**

**Much love, Zanny**


	6. Chapter 6

**Epiphany: Chapter 6**

**Hi guys! Sorry for taking forever to update, I've been struggling with motivation.**

**Thanks **blueMnM415 **for the idea! They will also be doing the movie-snuggle thing which is an idea that came from a lot of you… So thanks to all that reviewed! :) – The movie is The A-team, which in my opinion is the best first date movie ever. **

**Disclaimer: Nuh-uh

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**

It wasn't ten minutes when he heard her voice.

"Jaaaannne!"

Her voice sounded familiar; way too much like his when he was bored on the couch in the bullpen.

He almost chuckled. This was probably the closest to whining that Teresa Lisbon would ever get.

"Yes, Lisbon?" He called back in a sing-song voice.

"I'm bored."

This time, he did chuckle. He was right on mark.

Boredom.

He placed the plates he was busy drying back down and dried his hands. Then he walked to the living room where she was lying on the couch.

He noticed briefly that she _had_ tidied the living room against his orders. Now she was watching daytime television, not the most entertaining practice on earth.

But the thing that caught his attention wasn't the newly neat room or the repeat episode of _The Young and the Restless_. It was her: she was lying on the couch with her casted leg up, wrapped in a knitted blanket. She looked up at him with big, searching green orbs.

She looked adorable.

So freaking adorable, it killed him.

"Bored?" He asked when he found his voice, wavering only just. If she caught it, she didn't show it.

She nodded, her lower lip forming the cutest little pout he's ever seen.

"Can't we go just peek into work? I'll just take one case file, just _one_, to keep my busy while…" She stopped her sentence at his expression, then sighed. "Well, can we at least go outside? I'm dying out here?"

"Now Teresa, the doctor expressively said you should rest. That's no excitement of any kind." He said, smiling, as he quoted her from that time he was blind.

She didn't seem impressed.

She only sighed and sank deeper into the couch.

He stood in place for a while, thinking while she remained dead silent. "Maybe we could take out a movie tonight, huh? Or a few." He watched her face light up. "Now look, it's lunchtime and time for your medication. The doctor said they're gonna make you drowsy, so why don't you have lunch and then take a nice, long nap. And while you're asleep, I'll go get the movies."

"Sound like a plan." She said, obviously mocking him.

X

When she woke up, it was already getting dark.

_Drowsy indeed…_ The pain meds knocked her right out. She was still sleepy, an after-effect from being out on morphine so long. Her fragile, barely-there sleeping patterns were now royally messed up. _Well, at least it works._ She thought. The pain in her ankle was barely there.

There was, however, another discomfort coming to her attention. It seems she slept all the while from lunch to dinnertime, and she was hungry yet again. Her stomach growled noisily.

She begrudgingly pulled herself up from her bed and swung her legs over.

So she reached and grabbed her crutches, struggled up and hop-hopped through the door and down the stairs.

About halfway down the stairs, she started to notice the weirdness: the lights were dimmed and all along the stairs candles she didn't even know she had in the house, were placed and lit.

Strange sounds came from her living room. The closer she got, the clearer they became: it sounded like some kind of nature-ambience sound mix. Birdsong, rustling leaves, the whistling of wind…

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, what she saw nearly knocked the wind out of her.

Her entire living room was lit only by strategically placed candles and the furniture had all been moved aside to make place for a large blanket spread out in the middle of the room. The blanket was covered with throw pillows and a basket (that hoarded a trove of delicious smells) sat in the middle. And, indeed, from her stereo rang some kind of nature-sounds CD. And right in the middle of the entire scene, sat Patrick Jane with a big smile on his face.

"Look who's awake!" He said cheerily. "Sit down, my dear, don't strain yourself."

She struggled to find your voice.

"J-Jane, what is this?"

"You said you wanted to go out. Well, since we can't I decided to bring 'out'… in." He smiled even wider. "Now come and sit down. I know you're starving and I've got a whole basket of picnic-treats packed for us!"

Still speechless, Lisbon hopped with her crutches to the blanket and let Jane help her sit down. She made herself comfortable lying down against the mountain of pillows and watched Jane unpack the basket, revealing a feast of sandwiches, chicken, strawberries and other fingerfoods. And lots and _lots_ of buttery popcorn.

"And now…" Jane said, pulling out the remote control. "For the entertainment." He pushed the button and the TV sprang to life, revealing the menu screen of The A-Team DVD.

"Oh my gosh, I've been meaning to watch this movie." Lisbon said, smiling.

"I knew as much…"

As Jane pressed play and the opening scenes of the movie started to commence, he got comfortable against the pillows himself. He didn't even realize (or so he would claim, threaten him with death) as his arms spread out, his left behind her and somewhat around her shoulder.

Obviously it was completely unintentional… They were just friends and co-workers, friendlily watching a movie together while having an indoor picnic… that's normal, right?

Jane struggled to contain the strained groan when Lisbon sleepily laid her head on his shoulder knee-deep into the movie.

Her hair smelled like cinnamon and sunshine…

Before the last scene, they were both fast asleep.

Cuddled up snuggly in the blanket and each other's arms.

* * *

**So what did you think? This is turning out pretty fluffy, I think! Suggestions? Comments? Ideas? Review.**

**Much love, Z**


	7. Chapter 7

**Epiphany: Chapter 7**

**Hey guys! Loved the reviews! Sorry for taking forever to update… It's test series and I've been studying. :P**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine

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He woke up first, to warmth he's long forgotten.

Her head was rested on his chest, her hair splaying out upon it, ebony and cinnamon-scented, and her arm was tucked in close to her like a child.

He couldn't help the smile that spread over his face; she was so adorable. The most incredible urge to poke her nose overtook him.

So he did.

He slowly lifted his finger and gently pressed it to her cute little nose. It scrunched up and she moved her hand to swat at the offending something that was disturbing her sleep, like a kitten.

When he quickly snapped his finger back, out of her range, she was pleased and made a comfortable purring-sound, snuggling deeper into his chest.

He felt his pulse quicken in his neck and his breath catch in his throat.

It could've been seconds, minutes, hours that he lay there, watching her sleep before she saw any other sign of consciousness. It started with a small, gentle shift and then he felt her breathing pattern change against his side. She drew a long, gentle breath through her nose and her eyes opened slowly, her eyelids still heavy.

When they finally opened, revealing sleepy, green orbs, she stared at him for a few moments.

"Good morning…" He says; his voice is barely a whisper.

Her eyes close peacefully for a moment, as she succumbs to the sensations of sleep just once more.

And then her eyes snapped open, shocked at the scene before her, and she shot up.

The moment she was up, however, her hands flew to her forehead and she became very pale.

"Teresa, are you okay?" He asked, his hands immediately going to her waist to support her.

"Yeah, I just sat up too fast." She said.

Her voice was husky and sleep-ridden.

"Don't strain yourself. Remember, you just came out of the hospital, and you're still on medication. You're on strict no-fun orders." He said.

His hands remained on her waist, even as she opened her eyes and regained a faint tinge of colour in her cheeks (but that might be blush, _because_ of his hands so tightly on her waist).

"You can let go now." She said, after a while.

_I don't want to…_ He thought as he reluctantly let go.

"You, uh, want some breakfast?" He asked, hoisting himself up from their picnic-blanket. His back killed him for falling asleep on, for all practical purposes, the floor.

_It was worth it though…_ He thought with a smile.

Waking up next a sleepy Lisbon was nothing like he ever imagined… Not that what his boss would look like waking up ever really occurred to him before…

Gone was the cool and calm, uber-efficient, dominant super-Agent-image she usually exuded , replaced by an adorable kitten-like woman. Gentle and vulnerable and downright cute. Who would ever expect something like that from her? She, who would snap at anyone who dared even call her 'little lady'; obliterate any fool stupid enough to dare look at her as anything less than large and in charge with a stare that could cut through metal.

Who knew?

He did, now.

He heard her decline breakfast, saying she was still full from last night's picnic, but he went to the kitchen to make eggs and bacon anyway.

And surely, when he entered the living room again, ten minutes later, he noticed as her eyes eagerly followed the plate of bacon as he placed it before her on the coffee table. He also noticed that his little control freak had cleaned up the mess left last night. The blanket lay neat and folded on the corner of the couch and the picnic basket and plates sat stacked on the coffee table.

The woman really _did_ have restless hands… Either that or she was nervous. He always found her habit of straightening things when she was nervous quite endearing…

He briefly wondered if he should let her get a case file, just to keep her occupied, but quickly decided against it.

Lisbon reached out in front of her to get another piece of bacon, and he noticed a slight flinch of her right arm.

"Lisbon, are you okay?"

"What? Yes, of course, I'm fine."

"You just flinched."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. Is your arm bothering you?"

She pursed her lips then sighed slightly in defeat. "It's nothing, my shoulder is just a little sore from walking on these damn crutches all the time. It's nothing."

"It's not nothing. If your shoulder is bothering you, we should do something about it. Come here, I'll rub it for you."

"What?" She looked scandalized. Why, he couldn't understand. It was just a shoulder rub… He wasn't sophomoric enough to use a simple shoulder rub as a seduction method. Especially if he just woke up next to the woman… That would be a little anti-climactic.

"Your shoulder, woman. I'll rub it for you."

"Jane, you don't have to do that…"

"Would you hush?" He said, purposely using the words she so often said to him, as he pulled her a little closer and started on her shoulder blade.

He could immediately feel the tension knots in her back. "Wow. Lisbon, you really need to see someone about all this tension in your back. It's not healthy to walk around with so much anxiousness and worry. It's bad for your health."

"I wonder where all that anxiousness comes from?" She muttered, but he heard.

It made him smile.

She was starting to loosen up now; her breathing slowed, she closed her eyes. He continued applying gentle, constant pressure to her back, rubbing deep circles between the shoulder blades, then massaging her ribs with his thumbs… Slowly unknotting all the tension she had built up.

His (very talented) hands slowly crept their way up her back to her neck, then back down her shoulders and down her arms. She was warm and calm now, under his fingers.

He couldn't believe this was his Lisbon; the same woman he realized he loved only days before was right here, under his hands.

_Allowing me to touch her without any snappy comments or threats of physical violence…_

"Don't stop. Or I'll hit you in the nose again…" She mumbled at the pause of his fingers on her arms. With a chuckle, he continued again.

_Alright, only one threat of physical violence… That's still a record._

He loved this. Seeing every side of her.

Of course he knew before that there was more to Lisbon than her work-persona. He knew (from experience, when proving her innocent of murder with the Carmen) she had a vulnerable side, a broken side. He knew she was a very complex person, almost (if not as) complex as him.

But he never really allowed himself to think about what she'd be like if she really let him in like this. Even though it might be the medication or the trauma allowing her to do so, or maybe to messed-up sleeping patterns, but here he was given the opportunity to get first-hand experience with Lisbon the person.

Lisbon the woman.

And it was blissful.

His hands went their previous route again; between the blades, down the spine, on the ribs, back up to the shoulders, to the neck, down to the arms. And the he stopped, his hands gliding down her arms, enveloping her in an embrace from behind by doing so. His head rested on her shoulder and he breathed in her scent.

They sat there for a few moments; still and calm. She must've been in some kind of exhaustion-fueled, relaxation-inducing trance, because when she snapped out of it she literally _snapped._ And then she jumped up (grabbing her couch) and made a vague excuse about getting a shower or something.

He watched her hop-hop up the stairs, eyes glued in front of her, not daring to look back at him.

And that's the moment he knew that Teresa Lisbon felt it too.

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**So obviously, Jane – observation skills still intact – can totally tell she likes him too. Now, the question remains… Will he grow a pair and tell her? Suggestions how? Or how not?**

**I leave it in your very capable reviewing-hands. ;)**

**Much love, Zanny**


	8. Chapter 8

**Epiphany: Chapter 8**

**I just updated a few hours ago and ALREADY reviews are killing! You guys are awesome.**

**Be prepared for a very awkward chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.

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Frustrated, Lisbon braced herself against the bathroom sink and stared into the mirror.

"What. The hell. Was that?" She whispered to her reflection.

That wasn't supposed to happen. The quickening pulse, the fluttering in her stomach… the tingling of in her hands.

Was she… attracted to Patrick Jane?

No. No, of course not.

He was _Patrick Jane_. Her colleague, her consultant. Her consultant who, just incidentally, also happened to get under skin on an almost daily basis. Who she accepted as a friend, but never anything more…

Until now?

What happened? What changed since a few days ago? Other than her little brush with death, her new broken ankle and abdominal scar?

She sighed.

This was so confusing, so frustrating. This is why she didn't get close to people, why she settled for shallow one-night-stands and lonely nights. She's never been good at figuring out romantic intentions.

She threw her crutches down and hopped off towards the bathtub. Usually she would much rather take a nice, hot shower, but she had to keep the bandages around her ankle dry. She drew the bath, letting it run full with hot, foamy water. When it the tub was full, she undressed and got into the tub. She let the warm water absorb all of her worries and all of her frustration.

She ran her finger against the long line that scarred her abdomen – where the bullet had entered her, and where surgeons opened her up more to get the bullet out where it was lodged somewhere inside of her. Though the pain medication numbed most of the pain, the line still throbbed uncomfortably, and as she ran her finger along it, it stung, raw and red.

This certainly wasn't the first time a gun has been pulled on Teresa Lisbon. It would certainly not be the last.

And through the years she had been grazed by a stray bullet once or twice before. Scrapes and scratches, mostly, and a lot of bruises from bullets hitting her vest. But this was something scary and new – being so close to death, and then miraculously surviving. It was a fluke. It could've gone either way.

She could've been dead right now. She _should've_ been dead right now. These past few days – waking up in the hospital, the few days she stayed there, coming home, last night – was driven on pure adrenaline. On the disbelief of actually still _being_ here.

And now all of this – Jane, and these new, weird feelings she was having. There was something different in the way he's been treating her since she woke up. He looked at her differently, spoke to her differently. At first she thought it was shock, and was annoyed with it. She hated being coddled and treated like a child.

But since she came home it became less coddling and more just caring for her – something she would still have rather done for herself, but found harder to complain about. He still let her do things for herself, like wash and get dressed and entertain herself, but he treated her. He made her meals (which she wasn't going to complain about – she's never been a kitchen-dweller and Jane was quite the cook), he brought her pain medication after every meal. And he did all kinds of sweet things that confused her. Like arrange indoor picnics and take out movies he knew she'd love and massage her back when her shoulder hurt… And stir up feelings she wasn't allowed to feel.

Soon, she lost track of time deep in her bathtub-musings, and her fingers had turned into prunes. She pulled herself up and out of the bathtub, careful not to slip, and she wrapped herself in a towel.

She tucked the corner of the towel securely under her arm, and grabbed her crutch. Her mission: get to her room to get dressed without tripping and falling on her face.

The problem was that her room was all the way down the hall.

She opened the door and slowly started to make her way to the door, concentrating fiercely on not falling over.

She didn't look up, too focused on her chosen path, so she didn't see the mop of blonde curls appear from the staircase, silently walking up. He didn't see her either; he was focused on the little bottle of pills, trying to open the childproof lock which was suddenly a lot harder to open…

And then he looked up.

"Ah!" He yelled, seeing her half-naked not exactly on his top-ten list of things he expected to see.

In reaction, her head snapped up and she screeched.

She was so used to living alone, keeping an eye out for someone who could see her in a towel never occurred to her.

In her shock, she stumbled over her own feet, falling forwards, and Jane – seeing the danger in her expression – lunged himself forward to attempt to stable her. In a confused flurry of limbs, they stumbled backwards, and Lisbon (crutch lying somewhere behind her and legs flailing) landed right on Jane, who fell on his back.

The landing wasn't gentle by any means, and the result was two groaning people lying on top of each other, in a messy, tangled heap.

And then their groaning stopped, replaced by a very awkward, stunned silence as they stared at each other with shocked expressions.

"I-I…" For once in his life, Patrick Jane was truly at loss of words.

"It's okay." Lisbon said, just a little too loudly for it to come across as anything close to okay. "Uhm… It's fine, it's just a little accident." She struggled to get up, but only succeeded in wiggling against him, earning a strained groan. "Sorry." She whispered, her face flushing bright red from embarrassment. "Could you, uh… Help me up? My foot is…"

"Yeah, yeah, sure…" He said. He was pretty sure that he himself was blushing – a rare, _rare_ occurrence, that hadn't happened to him since maybe his teen years – as he struggled out from underneath her. She wasn't heavy by any means (in fact, she was as light as a feather), but he was careful not to hurt her, knowing she had probably landed with her foot at an odd angle.

Finally, he managed out and helped pull her up, looking away as soon as he saw the towel threaten to slip just lower than decent. As much as he wanted to, he didn't want to make this worse for her (her face was already on fire). Besides, he was a gentleman. If he was going to see her like that, it wasn't going to be because she fell in a towel by accident…

Both parties thoroughly embarrassed, and Lisbon flushed a brighter red than he'd ever seen (or thought possible), they stood in the hallway for a few moments more in awkward silence. She was clutching to towel tightly around her and balancing on her one leg, her eyes fixed on the floor.

"Sorry." He then said, as he bent down and grabbed her crutch handing it to her.

"N-No problem." She said, taking it from him, her other hand still clutching the towel for dear life. And then she hopped into her room with impressive speed, and slammed the door shut.

Jane stood in the hallway for a few moments after she disappeared into her room, leaning against the wall in support. He's pretty sure that his eyes must be as big as saucers.

That was probably the most embarrassing, strangest, most unreal moment he's shared with anyone, let alone with Lisbon. And he was a man who has had quite a number of strange events happen in his life.

Slowly, he walked back downstairs, his mind still flooded with confusion and adrenaline.

Then he quickly backtracked and picked up the bottle of pills that lay forgotten on the carpet.

* * *

**Ha. So that went somewhere weird… My excuse is that no one suggested anything, so I just let my weird head go where it wanted to, and since I think awkward moments are hilarity itself, my head went to Awkwardland. Thoughts?**

**Much love, Zanny**


	9. Chapter 9

**Epiphany: Chapter 9**

**Hi guys! Thanks so much for all those lovely reviews! Sorry for taking some time to update. I'm writing Science tomorrow and this is my study-break… Let me apologize in advance if this chapter sucks, my brain is currently a mushy mass of goo in my skull. **

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine**

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He heard, rather than saw, her coming down the stairs a little more than ten minutes later.

He was busy in the kitchen, trying to figure out the dosage pain meds she should be taking. The pharmacy gave a large bottle filled with pills to be given according to age and weight after every meal. Her previous dosages the day before could be lighter, because of the lingering effects of the morphine, but it was becoming clear in the way she struggled to her room on her crutches (before stumbling and falling _right on top of him_, so very, very close, so very, very towel-clad…) that she needed to move to the proper dose.

Which – since his mathematical skills were limited to the informal teachings of a fellow carnie who happened to be an ex-teacher – was proving to be quite the problem to figure out.

He struggled with the colorful little pamphlet the pharmacy gave him to calculate her dosage, when she walked into the kitchen.

"What time is it?" Immediately her words alerted him that what just happened upstairs, definitely _did not happen_, and was _not_ to be spoken about.

"It's past twelve." He said, preoccupied.

"What? Shouldn't you be at work?"

"I took some of my personal days. And some of my vacation time. You didn't think I was going to leave you here alone all day, did you?" He asked, smiling charmingly.

"Well… I guess I didn't."

"We're a little late with the meds, but the doctor said it'll be okay to take it anytime of the day. It's just important not to take it on an empty stomach. So dig into that bacon."

She did.

Finally, he decided that three pills would cut it, and handed the little white capsules to her.

"I only drank one before?"

"That's because you had a lighter dose. Because you were still a little numb from the morphine. This is the correct dose."

She shrugged. "Okay then."

X

"JANE!" He heard her yelling from the sofa. This was the fifth time she yelled for him, each time in that tone: giggling, silly, wobbling.

"I'll be right there!" He called back.

"It'll be fine, Mister Jane." The doctor said from over the phone, struggling to contain his laughter. "Don't worry too much about it. This certainly isn't the first time this has happened. Besides, the dose you gave her was far from fatal, it's just a little strong for her. It'll work out of her system by tomorrow."

"Okay. Thanks a lot, Doc." Jane said relieved, as he hung up.

This was what happened when you calculate pill dosages while frustrated. You give a terrible tiny little woman an overdose on pain meds and she goes completely loopy.

Since about half an hour after she took the pills, she could barely stay upright. She was giggling like a schoolgirl and as amusing as the sight was (and it _was_ amusing), Jane felt incredibly guilty.

Luckily she was going to be fine. Just a little high for a while.

He could barely contain the chuckle that threatened to escape his throat as he entered the living room: Lisbon was lying on the couch, her legs up against the back of it and her head hanging off the end. And she was giggling loudly at something that was apparently very funny.

"Hi handsome!" She said when she saw him in the doorway.

"Hey you."

"I'm bored again. Come entertain me!" She said, giggling.

He chuckled. "Scooch over." He waved her to a side of the couch and sat himself down.

She wiggled herself around until she was lying down the length of the couch, and sat up. When sat down, she lay her head down on his legs.

She sighed contently at this new position, apparently happy to have his legs as a pillow. He couldn't keep his hands from gently stroking her hair, his fingers tangling in the silky, ebony strands.

"You're handsome."

Her words has him speechless; from all the weird things she could say (even in this state), he did _not_ expect that.

"Really handsome. Did you know that? Of course you know that. Look at you. How could you not. Besides, you're so damn obnoxious, of course you know that..." She muses, as if talking to herself.

"Uhh..?" He stumbles. "T-Thank you?"

"Handsome and charming. You're really handsome, and really, really charming. I mean, I can totally see why you have all those widows and women falling over themselves to run after you."

"Lisbon, you-"

"I kinda wanna kiss you." She said it, like just another thought passing through her head. "I kinda wanna kiss you a lot."

If he thought he was speechless before, then his voice box had evaporated completely now.

All the words that have been burning his throat since the moment she woke up popped up again.

_I love you. I always have. Please feel the same way. Never leave me._

_"_Lisbon... Teresa, I... I really don't want to have this conversation when you're like this, but I'm afraid the courage will fail me again if I wait..." He threw his head back against the couch, drawing a deep breath, trying to summon courage. "I love you, Teresa. And I think I've loved you along, I was just too stupid to see it. And when you were shot... When I thought I was going to lose you, I was petrified, and I didn't know why. And then I realized that I didn't want to live my life without you. You make everything better; you make every day easier. And I don't want to lose you again. Teresa Lisbon, I love you and I want to be with you... Teresa..?"

He looked down to where she was lying on his legs.

She was fast asleep, her breathing coming and going in gentle snores.

He sighed heavily and let his head fall back again, as his hands rubbed wearily across his face.

Finally, he found the courage to tell her how he felt and she does what? She falls asleep.

Granted, she was pretty high on pain meds... But still.

It was a hit to the self-esteem.

He looked down again, and gently pushed a rebellious lock behind her ear. She was pretty adorable sleeping; her hands was tucked under her head like a child's, her face was relaxed. She looked sweet and silent and still.

Slowly he bent down and gently kissed her forehead.

"Goodnight, my love."

**So what'd you think? Like? Not? Thoughts appreciated.**

**Much love, Zanny**


	10. Chapter 10

**Epiphany: Chapter 10**

**Not even ten chaps and I'm already past 100 reviews! You people = Fe. (That's an inside joke, it's the element iron, which in Afrikaans is like colloquial for awesome). **

**Disclaimer: Nuh-uh, still nothing.

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**

Jane carried her limp, sleepy form up the stairs and gently deposited her onto the bed.

She's had a long day.

Waking up in his arms and the awkwardness thereafter.

Falling over him (literally) after her shower, clad only in a towel, and the _extreme_ awkwardness thereafter…

And then getting drugged by her own pain medication… Even though she probably won't remember enough of the embarrassing conversation for there to _be_ any awkwardness.

She looked so peaceful sleeping.

All of the worry and stress that was so often etches onto her forehead was gone. All of the tension she carried in her shoulders: gone. All of the over-efficient energy that radiated from her eyes and hands had turned into the gentle slur of slumber.

Her chest slowly rose and fell with each breath; a gentle sound, like a tiny snore, sounded at every interval.

It wasn't annoying; it was adorable.

She was adorable.

Where the hell did that come from?

Teresa Lisbon would never be classified as adorable – at least not by anyone who's ever known her longer than five seconds and knew better. If you called her a terrible word like that, you'd most certainly earn one of her mean right hooks.

She was formidable; she was a force; she was intense, and strong, and sometimes even a little bit scary.

She was stunningly beautiful without trying and a gentle, motherly caretaker to those she cared about.

But "adorable" was never a word used to describe her.

Until you were lucky enough receive a chance to enter her inner sanctum – like he did – and discover the side of her that she kept hidden at all times.

Like when she slept; every wall, every defense she kept so high and impenetrable, always ready to block out anyone who dared try come close to her, was down.

And of all the things about her that he'd noticed and saved in his database over the years – things like the way her eyes lit up like green fire when she was angry, or how her dimple became deep in her cheek when she smiled – this was his favourite.

He was about to turn around and walk away, leave her to sleep, but something stopped him.

He sat by the edge of her bed and took her hand – it was warm and smooth to touch.

"I love you." Cautiously, he tested the words.

It tasted strange in his mouth; not bad, just strange.

"I… love you. I _love_ you. I love you, I love you, I love you!" The more he said it, the better it felt. The easier the words flowed off of his tongue and the sweeter it tasted.

He sat there for a while, looking at her sleep.

And then he realized exactly what he was doing, and stood up and left. No doubt his lovely lady wouldn't appreciate the fact that he stared at her while she slept and said all kinds of cheesy things. Not that she'd ever know…

So he went downstairs and busied himself with odd jobs around the house. When that was done, he started going through her bookcase.

X

Only the next morning she appeared – like the doctor predicted. Her footsteps slumped heavily on each step down the stairs. When he looked up at her, he noticed that she changed into more comfortable clothes – sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt that swallowed her figure.

"Hey." Her voice was still husky and hazed with sleep. "What happened?"

"You, uh… Flew a little high there yesterday. Apparently we gave you a little too much pain medication for your tiny frame to handle."

"Oh." She said simply, walking to the kitchen instead of inquiring further. Apparently the meds weren't completely out of her system yet.

She returned a minute later with a bottle of water and guzzled it down without a breath.

Then she sat down beside him on the couch.

After a few moments, she spoke again: "Why did I take too much pain medication?"

Busted. "Uh… Because…"

"Did you give get me high, Jane?"

"_Accidentally!_ I accidentally got you just a _little _bit high." He pinched his fingers together to emphasise the _little_ and smiled awkwardly.

"Oh." She looked straight in front of her again, with a dazed look in her eye. He didn't expect the punch that hit him in the shoulder.

"OUCH! What was that for, woman?"

"For overdosing me on pain meds! What the hell is wrong with you?" She said, her voice accusing, but luckily teasing enough to cancel out the threatening air. "What's that you're reading?" She gestures to one of her crime novels that he sniped from her bookcase. It was turning out to be quite the hilarious read, the author was pretty witty.

"One of your books. I hope you don't mind."

"Knock yourself out."

Again they fell into silence; her, staring dazedly into space, still a little hazy from the meds, and him, no longer reading but studying her instead.

Once again – after several moments – it was her who broke the silence.

"Jane, I had such a weird dream last night."

"Really? You know, dreams are a window into your subconscious. Tell me about it."

"It was about you."

"Oh." _Uh oh… _

Was it possible that Lisbon had remembered the things he said? Granted, the only time he said the "l"-word was when she was asleep… Or he _thought_ she was asleep. And he _did_ say it repeatedly…

But why would it even matter?

Sure, it's not how he had hoped to tell her the truth about how he felt about her – a confession of love to a high, sleeping person isn't exactly the most romantic situation imaginable – but hey, better something than nothing, right?

"What did you dream?" He asked cautiously.

"It was really weird. You were there and you told me some really weird things." She said.

"Like..?"

"Well, you told me you loved me."

Her expression was blank; unreadable. He couldn't get any clear reading about how she was reacting.

_Oh shit. She _did_ hear. This is bad… Or is it? No, it really is bad. She doesn't feel the same way; if she did she would've said so. She hates me. This is going to ruin everything – our working relationship, our friendship… I can't let that go! I can't let _her_ go._

"I loved you?"

"Yeah. You told me you loved me over and over again." She said. Then she chuckled, and that little burst of laughter – which under any normal circumstance, would've been music to his ears – shattered his heart. "But that's crazy right? I mean, it's absurd. We're friends and co-workers." Her chuckle bubbled into more laughter. "It's kinda funny if you think about it."

"Yeah. Yeah, funny." He said. He was pretty sure his heart was bleeding.

"Well, I'm bored. What time is it? I think there's a repeat of Letterman on." She said, as she grabbed the remote control and switched on the television.

And as the love of his life giggled at the monologue of the late-night TV-host, Jane sat beside her, all his mental abilities focused on keeping his appearance in tact.

Because even though he chuckled along at the proper moments, inside every bit of his beaten-down heart was crushed.

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**Okay, so that took an angsty turn… **

**Now obviously I'm not going to end it there. Obviously, this fic WILL end Jisbon. And I know you all probably hate me right now, but this is the road and I'm taking it. I would, however, love some travelling tips? I'm running out of things that could happen with Jane and Lisbon in a house… It's a fountain of ideas, people, everyone has an opinion! Voice yours, and REVIEW!**

**Love you all, Zanny**


	11. Chapter 11

**Epiphany: Chapter 11**

**Hey guys! This fic has turned into quite the multi-chap... Running on 11 already, with no sign of slowing! Thanks so much for the reviews! You guys remain reviewing rockstars/ninjas/ambassadors of awesomeness! **

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine **

He went to the grocery store a little later – mostly because he really needed to clear his head.

Lisbon was safe and cozy in the apartment, watching reruns and eating popcorn – not loving him.

He didn't quite know how to handle this…

See, Patrick Jane hadn't really learned how to handle rejection well in his life.

He has known pain, he has known heartache, he has known unbearable anger and loss… But he has never known rejection.

As a teenager, he was the handsome boy wonder: every girl in the vicinity – carnie or mark – hung on his every word. When he met Angie, it wasn't quite love at first sight. It started as a friendship filled with awkward silences and uncomfortably large bouts of hormone-pumped teenage chemistry. Soon, he charmed her into becoming his girlfriend, and later eloping and becoming his wife.

When Red John took her and Charlotte from him, he thought he'd never recover. A part of him never will.

Once he pulled himself together enough to get released from the mental hospital after his breakdown and start working for the CBI again, he was as charming as ever – even though it was all a hoax, driven by a bloody need for vengeance.

The widows, female suspects or witnesses, or any of the other miscellanea of female pawns, who popped up in the process of solving crime, fell at his feet. All it ever really took was a smile and a few choice words.

Any resistance put up soon dissolved, leaving them helpless to his will even though it would never be romantic.

Sure, through the years Teresa had been an impenetrable wall of resistance, but of course his interest in her had been platonic back then.

They were friends who bantered and argued and teased each other non-stop (ignoring the chemistry that sparked when they touched) and ignoring any romantic interest was part of that.

And then something out of the ordinary happened.

He had this terrible experience of _fear_. Fear that he'd lose her.

And he had an epiphany and it revealed something that he always sort of knew in the back of his head: Teresa Lisbon was special.

He loved her.

And he told her (even though technically, he was under the impression she was asleep and didn't hear anything) and she did something that comfused him.

She _rejected _him.

She told him she didn't love him back.

This was so weird… He was usually the one not interested…

It was confusing and scary. And that's how he ended up here, at the local convenience store. Wheeling a trolley with a wheel that kept turning willy-nilly and pulling to the left.

He picked out random objects off the racks and threw them into the trolley.

He wasn't even sure what it was he was picking out; he just took from the rack, and threw in the trolley, took from the rack, and threw in the trolley.

This little outing wasn't about grocery shopping – the bags from his last trip were just recently unpacked. It was about thinking.

And thinking he did.

He loved her; he knew now that he truly did.

He had lost love before. Was he really willing to lose her as well?

No, he wasn't.

He wouldn't be able to survive going to work and seeing her every day. Knowing that he could never be with her.

Even with his above-average mental powers and self-control, he knew these feelings were painfully strong.

But on the other hand, she didn't feel the same way.

And even if she did, had he ever stopped to think how _Red John_ would react to a new love in his life?

Not well.

If he went after Kristina after only one date, what would he do to the woman he actually loved?

Jane shuddered at the thought; it earned a confused look from the lady behind the cold cuts cooler.

But none of that even mattered.

Because she didn't love him back…

He sighed and headed towards checkout.

This had been an extremely depressing and thoroughly inefficient outing.

All he had achieved is making himself even more depressed.

"Is your wife pregnant?" The checkout lady asked.

"Huh?" He snapped out of his depressed reviere.

She smiled and held up the articles she was checking out: a tub of peanut butter ice cream and a large pack of gummi bears.

_What did I buy?_

"I noticed the wedding ring and the frustrated expression. That, plus the weird junk food combinations…"

"Oh. Oh yeah. She's in her second trimester." He lied expertly.

The checkout lady smiled and made some more polite small talk.

As she spoke, his mind was on the golden band that was now stinging his ring finger.

He hadn't really paid attention to it lately, and now he was feeling really guilty about it.

What kind of man was he? His beloved wife and _child_ died at the hands of a madman and here he was loving another woman! Thinking about her…

He twisted the ring around his finger.

He wasn't feeling as guilty as he knew he should. As he knew he used to.

And when he started to think about them - thought the stab of anger and sadness was still there – the pain was significantly number.

And he realized that when he thought of Angela's face, it wasn't crying or angry or scared anymore. It was smiling. Her brown eyes were laughing as she hugged their daughter.

And when she looked at him with those brown eyes that at a time were familiar, he saw in his mind's eye a kind of blessing.

As he walked out of the convenient store and unloaded the grocery bag filled with a wide an extremely strange variety of cargo, he decided what he was going to do.

And where he was going to go.

X

Hours later, he arrived back at the apartment.

She wasn't on the couch anymore, but he heard her in another room. She was probably cleaning the place up, he guessed. She's always had the habit of 'straightening' things when she was nervous – whether it be her desk while receiving a scolding phone call from a higher up over his behavior, or her home when she was restless and bored.

_Poor thing_, he smiled fondly. _She's really having it hard. One of the major drawbacks of being such a workaholic._

"Teresa!" He called from the hallway.

Her head popped out from a doorway – her hair was messy, she probably took a nap on the couch.

"Hey! Where were you? You went to the store _hours_ ago! How long does it take to pick up a few groceries?"

"I had to make a little pit stop." He said. He didn't elaborate.

She didn't need to know that he visited their graves for the third time ever – the first, their funeral, the second, when Danny was here.

There, he took the ring off (slowly, carefully…) and sat for an hour or two.

He thought long and hard; for the first time in a while, he let the tears flow freely down his cheeks.

And then he placed the gold band between the tombstones and covered it in soil.

It was unfair and cruel of him to keep on wearing it if his heart wasn't only hers anymore.

Granted, Angie and Charlotte would forever own a part of his heart, but now he had to be honest with himself. Even though the woman he loved didn't love him back, he did love her. And he had decided that he was fully intent on fighting for her – screw the consequences.

There were a lot of bridges they had to cross. They would deal with them when they came to them.

"Uhm, I would like some help unpacking the groceries, if you would?"

"Oh yeah, of course!" She said, hopping behind him to the kitchen.

He extended his hand to help her down the hall into the kitchen, smiling sweetly. She took it.

It was then, looking down at their interlinked hands, that she noticed it.

His bare ring finger.

A faint tan line painted a ring around his finger, emphasizing the absence of the band that should've been there.

She stumbled over her words. "Uh… Uhm…"

He knew she saw it, but he waited for her to comment.

To say something that gave him hope… That gave him a signal that she _did_ in fact feel something more than platonic friendship towards him, despite her denial before.

She didn't.

She snapped her eyes up to his (her cheeks tinged with pink) and she changed the subject.

"So, those groceries..?"

"Over here." He indicated to the bags on the counter, his disappointment towards her lack of reaction only thinly veiled.

In silence, somewhat awkward, they unpacked the groceries.

The air between them was thick with expectation and confusion. Their eyes flicked towards one another, than quickly back to the groceries, in fear of being caught. Each time their eyes locked, the looks were lingering and surprised, like a deer caught in the headlights, before quickly being rectified to an overly-intense stare at the bags before them.

About ten minutes in: "Jane… What the hell did you buy?"

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**So what'd ya think? C'mon, I'm in desperate need of opinions! Remember: reviews = love. **

**Much love, Zanny**


	12. Chapter 12

**Epiphany: Chapter 12**

**You guys are so awesome! Reviews = love, and I'm swimming in loveliness right now! You're kicking my previous review-records' butts!**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.

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Teresa Lisbon sat on her couch later that night, deep in thought.

Jane was in the shower and she was supposed to be setting the kitchen table for dinner. But about two minutes after Jane's footsteps up the stairs became faint and the shower started running upstairs, her mind started to wander.

This was weirder than she expected it to be.

When Jane offered to take care of her in her, she was surprised. Through the years Jane had become more than your average co-worker; he had become a good friend. Besides, being borderline invalid and denied any work wouldn't be easy for someone like her. Surely, it'd be easier with some company, especially if the company was as entertaining as Jane.

But Jane had changed since she woke up; he looked at her differently and treated her differently. And there was some weird kind of tension hanging in the air between them all the time.

She realized there was something weird going on after waking up in his arms that first night, after that (sinful) massage on the couch and after their little incident with her in a towel… She's beginning to suspect that something more happened while she was flying high on pain meds, but she had no proof of that…

Other than that dream…

She can't remember when last she had a dream like that.

Back when she was young and naïve.

Nothing like this one, though.

It was just his face in a hazy, bright-lit dreamlike state, smiling, staring at her and saying the most unbelievably sweet things.

"_I love you, Teresa. I love you…" _

Over and over he said it.

And when she woke up the next morning, she had the most unsettling, frustrated flutter take over her stomach.

And then, most upsetting of all, he disappeared the entire day, only to resurface hours later _without_ his wedding ring.

That ring was one of the largest symbols of his love for his deceased wife.

Its absence was bad; she didn't need anything giving her false hope.

She was going to be booked off from work for a few more weeks, and would need someone around for the same time.

And it was uncomfortable enough to keep her head straight with her handsome consultant who she is hopelessly attracted to (_not_ in love with, _definitely not_ in love with…) upstairs, taking a shower. She didn't need actual _hope_ that something could come of it making it even harder.

She was so deep in thought, frustrated with herself for letting it get this far, that she didn't hear when the shower stopped running. Neither did she hear the tentative footsteps of Jane coming down the stairs.

"Hey Lisbon… Uh… Could you help me out here?"

She looked up, startled by the sight of Jane – clad only in a fluffy, white towel, tied around his waist.

"Uh… uh…" She was without words.

"Sorry, I left my duffel bag down here." He said, pointing to the bag that sat innocently at the corner of the couch, by her feet.

Her cheeks flushed bright red and she averted her eyes away from him, struggling to get a grip of the duffel bag with shaking hands. Finally she got a hold on the bag and throws it to him.

He catches it, but as he does he drops something else.

Which, in turn, makes Lisbon's bright red cheeks turn even brighter and redder, making her look like a tomato.

"Oh my-!"

"Whoops!" Jane calls, grabbing the towel back up. "I'm so sorry."

"It's… It's okay, it's fine, Jane. I didn't see anything anyway. It's fine, don't even mention it."

"Well, at least we're even now." Even though her eyes were averted and her face was hidden in embarrassment, she could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Just get out of here! Go put on some pants!" She yelled, throwing a throw pillow at him.

He was upstairs again a few moments later, leaving her alone and blushing on the couch.

_Did that seriously just happen?_

X

This time it was his turn to stand over the bathroom sink, staring at the mirror.

But the expression on _his_ face wasn't embarrassment or disbelief as hers was two days ago. _His_ was filled with amusement, struggling to keep the laughter from escaping.

He's never been a shy man, so the little accident downstairs didn't really do that much damage to his ego. But the way Lisbon blushed to brightly and kept her eyes averted and her face covered all the time was hilarious to him.

He would bet serious money that her face was still a brilliant shade of scarlet.

And that made his ego swell, if anything.

He didn't want their impending relationship (if it is pending, and would ever come to be) to be built on lust, but it _is_ an important part of any relationship, and something that they're apparently excellent at. Besides, it could be a very handy catalyst.

Every relationship had to start somewhere.

And they've both had enough drama in their lives; if he was giving them a chance to be together (like he was), he might as well have fun doing it.

Especially since they've got such a delicious set-up.

He smiles at his reflection in the mirror and realizes that for the first time in a long time, he is actually excited. Excited and carefree.

Like a man in love.

He brings his hand up so he can look at the faint tan line on the ring finger, and his smile shrinks until it is simply sincere.

"Thank you." He whispered gently to the sky. "Thank you for setting me free."

Then he turned to his duffel bag and selected one of the three piece suits that were stuffed inside.

He whistled as he changed.

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**Reviews are always appreciated! **

**Much love, Zanny**


	13. Chapter 13

**Epiphany: Chapter 13**

**Ladies and gents . . . MY SCIENCE PROJECT IS DONE! Of course, none of you care at all about my science project, but this is a giant event in my short-term world. So it's pretty awesome. This also probably means that updating will occur faster, so… Yay for you guys! :) **

…**Oh yeah, and thanks for reviewing awesomeness!**

**Disclaimer: Nope, nothing is mine.

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**

In the next few days that followed, Jane had launched his master plan: to win Lisbon over.

And he did it in the only way he knew how: he wooed her.

Every charming smile, every subtle seduction tactic he knew (and he knew them all), he put into practice.

Long, lingering looks, glancing away the moment their eyes locked, their hands 'accidentally' brushing over the cereal box, gently playing with her dark ebony locks when they lay lazily in the evenings and watched a movie…

Not to mention all the little romantic things he planned.

He couldn't help but be a little bit proud about how well his first conquest worked out – a simple indoor picnic ended in them falling asleep in each other's arms.

Now he was always thinking of equally romantic – but still subtle – ways to seduce her.

In only three days, he's squeezed in an enormous amount of wooing. He's made her a wide variety of delicious dinners with rich, decadent desserts – even though he's claimed before that seduction over a meal is sophomoric. Right now, being un-sophomoric isn't the main priority; if the way to Teresa Lisbon's heart went through her stomach, than embarrassingly cheesy or not, that was the route he would take.

He provided romantic comedy-DVD's on a nightly basis, always playing it just a little later so she would be drowsy and comfortably snuggle in his arms. He found that once the moon was high and her pain meds in her system long enough, the sense of professional boundaries she held so high, shrunk.

But because her injuries and the doctor's stern orders, his options for wooing were limited.

He couldn't take her out of the apartment, in fear of her falling and breaking something else, or overworking herself and fainting.

If he could, he would take her to the theater, or for long walks in the park, ending in a real, outdoor picnic. Or maybe he'd take her to the most romantic restaurants, cozily hidden in some unfamiliar alcove of the city. With low lighting, and low music and booths where they could sit and talk for hours…

He would… But he couldn't.

And her reactions to the things he could and did do, wasn't exactly as he hoped they would be.

Yes, she ate the lovely dinners with him, engaged in companionable dinner conversation. And she laughed along when the movies were funny, and by the end of the night she would always have unconsciously scooted closer to him, until she was snugly fitted against his chest with her head rested against his shoulder.

But her conversation was much too careful and calculated; her gazes, when she caught him staring longingly, far too suspicious.

He knew she felt their chemistry and he knew her feelings for him ran deeper – much deeper – than a simple, professional boss-consultant relationship.

But she was obviously too cautious in nature to act on her feelings.

He should've seen it coming, really – this _was_ Teresa Lisbon, after all. She was no spring chicken, and even when she was, she had too many scars on her heart to allow herself to fall for any man all willy-nilly. The little he knew about the specifics in her private life was grim to say the least – the rest of the male species had made it pretty hard for him.

And if the man in question was her annoying consultant who got under her skin on a daily basis, and with whom a romantic relationship would mean losing her job, the odds were pretty stacked against him.

Plus, there was that other thing about the dead wife and kid and the devotion to a bloody revenge towards their faceless murderer.

She was going to fight him tooth and nail for this.

But he had to convince her it was worth the risk; worth the sacrifice.

And he wasn't going to be able do it with home-cooked dinners and movie nights.

X

"Where are you off to now?" Lisbon asked, as she watched Jane grab his wallet off the coffee table.

"Not me. Us." He said with a smile – his eyes glinted with mischief.

Lisbon's eyes immediately narrowed. "The doctor said…"

"I know what the doctor said. I also know that you are an excruciatingly careful woman and that we're going to be really cautious. Nothing strenuous; no excitement of any kind." He smiled, chuckling slightly. "I just think you deserve a little break from being cooped up in here. I can see it's starting to get to you. Some fresh air will do a world of good."

She seemed to consider it for a moment.

He watched with interest as her eyebrows knitted together, her eyes averted downwards as she calculated her decision.

Then, after a while: "Sure. I can do with some fresh air. But nothing too heavy, okay?"

He smiled. "Never."

X

The zoo was bustling; groups of families with children and middle school-classes on field trips roamed the grounds, running from one pen to another.

"Jane… What are we doing here?" Lisbon asked in bewilderment, looking around as if the surroundings might provide the answer.

"We're here to see those tiger cubs you like so much." He said with a smile, helping her out of the car and handing her the crutch.

She chuckled. "That was years ago…"

"Well, I happened to read the paper yesterday, and even though your little comment years ago was a lie – and one I saw through immediately, by the way – they _do_ have an especially playful and adorable litter of tiger cubs at present."

Her smile widened until it was blindingly bright and beautiful. Jane couldn't help the resulting smirk of self-satisfaction.

He lead her through the entrance gates and down the stone-tiled path.

The sun was shining pleasantly on their faces; there wasn't a cloud in the clear, blue sky. The music of children's laughter and birdsong coming from the exotic birds' section rang in the air. It was a beautiful day, and Lisbon hated to think that on any other week, under any other circumstances, she would probably be doing paperwork behind a desk right now.

She sat on the bench and watched Jane buy them hot dogs. His face was shining with an unfamiliar carefree air, a smile – as broad and bright as his usual, but strangely more genuine – adorned his face.

There was something about this new Jane that intrigued her – not that "old" Jane didn't. Patrick Jane was probably the most intriguing person she's ever known.

But it's like since the accident – since he started acting so strangely towards her, and the thick tension starting sparking between them so much more intensely – it's like all that intrigue was out in the open.

Jane arrived with their hotdogs. "M'lady…" He said charmingly, as he handed it to her with a flourish.

"Stop that." She said slightly under her breath and stood up as she accepted the hotdog. They started walking towards the _Jungle Cats_ division.

"Stop what?" He asked as he sat down beside her.

"You know… _That_." She said, waving her hand vaguely in his direction.

"What's _that_?" He asked.

"You know." She said, frustrated, with a little sigh. "Ever since the…" She gestured to her chest, where her scar was, with her hotdog-wielding hand. "…You've been acting weird. Talking to me differently. Looking at me differently. Jane, I don't want a scar and a gunshot wound to make you see me as… You know… _Weak_…"

Jane seemed to find this funny, because he chuckled.

"_Weak? _I don't see you as weak, Teresa. I doubt anyone could ever see you as weak."

They reached the tiger cage, where a regal mother tiger was basking in the sun with four tiny, orange cubs playfully chased each other around her.

Lisbon's face lit up with pure adoration as she watched the kitten-like cuties play in the sun. Her smile was infectious.

"Then what is it? What's changed?"

For a moment Jane thought she was going to drop the subject, but with that same adoring smile on her face, she continued the very serious conversation.

Jane sighed. "It's complicated."

"Complicated? Really?" Her eyebrow rose. "Please, do explain."

Her gaze (and a part of her attention) was still glued to the cubs below, and his was glued to her.

She really had no semblance of a clue of how stunningly beautiful she was… How unbelievably special she was to him.

How did he put that into words?

He drew a breath.

It was now or never.

He wasn't going to find a better moment than this – there wouldn't be a better setting, a better time, a better set-up.

"Because Teresa… I…" He kept waiting for interference, someone to come and mess up the moment. "I…"

"You what?" She turned to him now, and the gentle happiness in her face had evaporated. In its place was anger, frustration and impatience. She was getting tired of him, quick.

"I love you."

He spat out the words before he could even stop them. The moment he did, her face fell and her eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

"You-?" She stuttered, but her sentence dissolved.

She faced the cubs again, keeping her eyes on them.

A few moments passed, the tension hanging thick.

When she made no move to react, he said: "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well, I just told you I loved you. You can't just leave me hanging."

She turned to face him again, her mouth open to respond and closed a second later.

Then, finally, she seemed to find her voice. "Could you give me a day? To think about it?"

He slowly exhaled the breath he didn't realize he was holding. Then he nodded, slowly. "Yeah, okay. That'll be… good."

She nodded, and gave him a small smile. "It doesn't mean no, Jane."

"I know." He said, returning the smile.

They stood and watched the tigers for a few moments more, until they decided that the day had gotten long enough.

They started to the car, Jane leisurely strolling so that Lisbon could keep up, hop-hopping on her crutch.

When they finally reached the car, he opened the door for her and helped her in.

Before he closed the door, he stopped and gave her a long, lingering look.

"Is there something wrong?" She asked, catching his look.

"No." He said, leaning forward to tuck a rebellious ebony curl behind her ear. "Just please don't wait too long."

The moment between them was static-filled and haunting.

She smiled gently. "I won't."

He gently closed the door behind her and walked around to his side.

Jane's head was flurrying with thoughts.

He _finally_ told her. He told her and she asked for time…

Which was foreboding.

Not technically bad, but it scared him to death.

As he got into the front seat, and watched Lisbon out of the corner of his eye, he knew he wasn't getting any sleep tonight.

And he knew she was worth it.

* * *

**So my fic **_**finally**_** got somewhere. What do you guys think?**

**Much love, **

**Zanny**


	14. Chapter 14

**Epiphany: Chapter 14**

**Wow. All I can say! Loving all the fast reviews, especially since they're nice and long! Man, I love those!**

**Also, I'd like to make a little note that I am writing this during Earth Hour – during which there isn't a light on in my house (other than the light coming from some foul-smelling scented candles) and my laptop is not plugged on in and functioning on its battery. This is a completely eco-friendly (sort of) chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, nada

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He lay on the couch in her living room.

It was late - probably somewhere after midnight – and the room was lit only by the glow of the moon and the streetlights, flowing in from the window.

His senses were overly tuned into every move and sound: the tick-tick-tick of the second-hand of the clock, the dark barking somewhere else in the neighbourhood, the bright, _bright_ blue glow of a light on the VCR…

He was right; sleep was practically running away from him. He felt more awake with every second.

Somewhere, a few feet above his head, Teresa Lisbon was lying in her bed.

And if he knew her, and he did, she wasn't getting much sleep either. She was probably just lying there, in the dark, staring at the ceiling with the cogs in her brain turning furiously.

All he wanted to do was go upstairs, crawl under the covers with her and hold her until she fell asleep.

But he knew if he did that, he would probably end up getting a thorough tongue-lashing and her knee in a very sensitive place where knees should never, _ever_ be.

_She's going to say yes… No, she's going to say no… She wants to be friends, she doesn't want anything to change, she wants things to say exactly the same. And she doesn't want things to be awkward in the office, but how couldn't it be? Now that she knows, she'll notice his longing stares and the way his touches linger… How could he survive without them? How could he survive with the love of his life so very close to him, but so completely off limits?_

He sighs in frustration and turns on his side.

The little blue LCD-screen on Lisbon's VCR states it's 1:47.

Fantastic.

It's already tomorrow and he hasn't slept half a wink.

He wonders how she's doing upstairs. Maybe at some point her constant anxious thinking exhausted her into passing out, and she's dozing.

He hoped so.

As much as he loves her (and oh, how he does) he doesn't like it when she's all tired and cranky. Other than making it hard to work with her, he hated seeing her anything less than one hundred percent happy.

X

Upstairs, things weren't exactly going as he hoped.

Lisbon was lying in bed in the dark - as her downstairs suitor originally predicted – staring at the ceiling and thinking.

Thinking and thinking and _thinking_ until her brain felt like it was about to overload and _explode._

Somewhere, just a few feet below her, Patrick Jane was lying on the couch.

Probably lying awake, like she was, wondering wha her answer would be. She'd love to go downstairs and set his mind at ease, but at this particular moment, there was no clear winner in the internal debate going on in her mind.

_What is happening? Where the hell did this come from? And what should I do? _

She's been thinking those words over and over for the past few hours.

Over and over and over. And then some.

Then she sat up, switched the bedside lamp on and got out of bed. She walked to the en suite bathroom and immediately went to the sink.

She splashed some cool water onto her face, washing away the exhaustion that had built up.

"Pull yourself together, Teresa." She said in a strained voice to her mirror-reflection. "You're not some pathetic teenager upset over a boy. You're a grown woman. You can make an intelligent decision here."

Her breathing had grown heavy; her shoulders were tensed.

_List of pros and cons… Make a list of pros and cons. That's always a good idea. _

_Well, the cons are obvious. It's against CBI policy, I could lose my job. My job is all I have, it's everything I've worked for all my life. It's the single most important component in my life. Secondly, he's still committed to revenge for his wife and child. I'll probably always have this aching insecurity in my stomach that I'm second best… That if this terrible tragedy didn't happen, he probably wouldn't give me a second look if I passed him on the street. I will always be second to her. And then the great, big, blood-red elephant in the room: Red John…_

_What would he do if he finds out?_

_He won't just sit back and do nothing, that's for sure._

_Okay, pros: Number one… Well, obviously, he's Patrick Jane. Handsome, intelligent, charming, challenging, intriguing… And the chemistry is obviously there… So we seem to be pretty compatible. Number two… He appears to be sincere when he tells me he loves me. And that must've taken a lot from him. The fact that he's saying these things and serious about it, means so much for him. Number three… My heart flutters when he's close to me. Number four… I miss him when he's away. Number five… He buried his wedding ring for me._

_Number six… I think I'm falling in love with him._

Lisbon looked up at her reflection again and was amazed by the obvious change in her own body language.

Her tense shoulders have relaxed, the strain and anxiety has dissolved and in its place was a happy, smiling glow.

Those three, simple words just changed everything.

"Lisbon?" She jumped a little and turned around lightning-fast in the direction of the voice, shrieking in fright.

Jane was standing in the doorway – in his oversized pajama pants – looking tentative and cautious. His hands flew up defensively. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just heard footsteps moving and I wanted to make sure everything's okay. It's pretty late, so…"

"Yes." She said. She was panting lightly now, out of shock.

"I'm sorry, I'll go back downstairs."

"No, Jane." She said, catching him by his arm.

He turned around to look at her again.

"Yes." She repeated, smiling this time, emphasizing the significance of the word.

Jane, however seemed confused. "Yes?"

"Yes."

And then, finally, Jane seemed to understand what she meant. "Yes…" He repeated the word like she just gave him the answer to world peace.

A slow, shining smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, broader and broader, until it grew to its full-fledged one hundred-watt form.

"YES!" He called out, laughing happily, as he took her in an ecstatic embrace twirling her around as she shrieked happily.

When he finally placed her back down, both smiling and giggling and staring in each other's eyes with incredible adoration, he asked her: "Really? Are you sure? I mean, you know it's not going to be…"

"I know. I'm willing to take the risk."

His smile grew happier and wider (if that is possible), as he took her in his arms again, reveling in the feeling of her slight but warm form enveloped in his arms. He buried his face in her sweet-smelling hair, wound his arms around her waist and lifted her feet off the ground just a little in a zealous embrace.

And then they were kissing, their lips meeting in a kiss that's been long overdue, drowning in each other.

Each responded with more fervor than the other, devouring each other, getting their fix of the craving they've been denying for far too long.

As started backing up towards her room, he broke the kiss for a breathless second.

"Are you sure?" He asks.

She simply nods with the most delicious smile he's ever seen on her face, her eyes sparkling bright green.

"I've never been more sure of anything." She says.

"I love you, Patrick."

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**Hooray! It's almost there! This'll probably be the last real chapter, next will be a nice little epilogue. Sorry, I didn't see it ending so soon, but as per usual the fic wrote itself. Please review!**

**Much love, Zanny**


	15. Epilogue

**Epiphany: Epilogue**

**I'm terribly sad and sorry that this fic's ending so soon, but as I said it wrote itself. And when Simon comes calling (my mojo – also known as Mojo Jojo - not actual super-hotness Simon Baker) you can't decline. **

**To see the ring I imagine, link: ./imgres?imgurl=.&imgrefurl=.&usg=_uAgiL3umGSIK7tqQ-S8IjYOV5IQ=&h=285&w=276&sz=21&hl=en&start=63&zoom=1&tbnid=gRRs4RBnlI5oHM:&tbnh=168&tbnw=158&ei=TIaPTYOGF4GI4Aa39bXYCw&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dengagement%2Bring%2Brose%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26biw%3D1280%26bih%3D681%26tbs%3Disch:10%2C18620%2C1862&um=1&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=523&vpy=295&dur=3841&hovh=228&hovw=220&tx=107&ty=104&oei=MoaPTaf6NseV8QOrypShDw&page=4&ndsp=16&ved=1t:429,r:12,s:63&biw=1280&bih=681**

**Disclaimer: Nope, nothing is mine.

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"So let me get this straight. You and Lisbon – the _same_ you and Lisbon who almost kill each other every day – are _engaged_?"

"Not exactly. Not yet." Jane said without skipping a beat, his charming smile intact and crossing his legs. "But I plan to ask her tonight. And I'm telling you this because I suspect she'd appreciate the bureau's support. The rules have been weighing heavy on her heart lately, and I don't want her to worry about it anymore."

He was sitting across the desk from Agent Hightower, who was wearing a scowl and a mean face.

"Patrick, you realize that relationships within a team are against the rules."

"Yes…" He says, pulling out a little blank handbook from beneath his jacket. "But I looked it up."

He cleared his throat: "_If a romantic relationship between two Agents within one team unit is discovered, it should either be immediately ended, or one of the two parties should be transferred to another unit, as to not disturb the unit's functionality._ Did you catch that, Madeleine? A romantic relationship between two _agents_. And as we both know so well, I am not an Agent."

Hightower sighed and directed her eyes to the paperwork in front of her in frustration. "But you understand _my _problem here? After the whole debacle with Agents Rigsby and Van Pelt; it would be totally hypocritical."

"No, it wouldn't."

"And why is that?"

"Because Rigsby and Van Pelt actually broke the rules. Plus, they couldn't keep it in their pants. We all knew about their relationship within five minutes of it happening. Teresa and I have been dating more than six months and nobody's got a clue."

Well, that was a straight-up lie. Cho figured it out in the middle of month three – because he's Cho, he's a perceptive one – and Van Pelt accidentally walked in on a very private make-out session late one night at the security camera's blind spot in the parking lot.

But Rigsby was still clueless.

As was the rest of the CBI; most definitely not Hightower. The shock on her face when he broke the news minutes ago was too real.

And, if anything, the relationship-rumors tamed a bit in the last six months. The stress of being in a secret relationship made Lisbon extremely cautious and thus all those fun _moments_ they used to have at work that fuelled those moments – the lingering touches, the teasing comments, the flirtatious smiles – were killed off.

Really, he didn't mind. She made up for it at home. Plus, he turned it into a game.

Now, the subtlest of come-ons (no matter how non-existent it may seem to people on the outside) would make her furiously blush and change the subject. Which he found absolutely and completely entertaining.

That, of course, made for an angry Lisbon when he got home. But lucky for him he knew exactly how to deal with that – and he found her sexy as hell when she was flushed.

"I don't know, Patrick…"

Oh right, she's still talking.

"Hightower, you're not her father." He said with a chuckle. "I'm not the nervous boyfriend you've never liked asking pretty please if I can give your daughter my grandmother's ring. I'm marrying her with or without your approval. What I'm asking is that when you receive the news at the water cooler tomorrow afternoon you won't march into her office and fire her."

"Who says I won't fire you?" She asks with a quirk of the eyebrow.

"You did. I'm the Golden Boy, remember?"

He watches her fight the smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth.

Then she sighs and purses her lips. "Alright then. Fine. I'll back you when the board comes crying. Maybe – _maybe_ – your loophole-theories work." Appears the smile she's been trying to fight. "I'm happy for you two. Saw it coming."

"Yes, you did."

"Can I see the ring?" She asks, the smile now becoming more girlish than he's comfortable seeing on his boss.

He smiles at the rare occurrence and reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out the little black box and opens it.

It reveals a beautiful silver ring, the band weaving into the stone-laden petals of a rose.

"Wow. It's beautiful."

"I want to spoil her for once. It's a little too big and sparkly for her to ever consider wanting it for herself, but she deserves it. It's unique. Just like her…"

"She'll love it."

Jane smiles and closes the box, placing it carefully back into his pocket and tapping it nervously. Then he gets up and goes to leave.

Before he exits her office, standing in the doorway, he turns to face her.

"Madeleine? Just one more thing..?"

"Yes, Patrick?"

"Do you think she'll-?" His voice is uncharacteristically insecure; Hightower and never heard the overly confident, sometimes arrogant consultant sound this way.

Right then and there she knows she can't come between them. Not if what they have is making _Patrick Jane _insecure from fear of a simple no.

"She'll say yes. Trust me." She says with a smile.

X

The moon was bright and the stars shone bold – it was the perfect night. He'd planned it that way.

He had planned their dinner for months now, but she's just heard of it a few hours ago. Most of their nights out work that way – somewhere during the day he pops into her office, tea in hand, and announces he's making reservations; she must mentally prepare herself for a nice night out.

She comes down the stairs – looking radiantly beautiful, making his heart skip more than one beat – in a sparkly dark blue dress that make her eyes look like gems.

She stops every few steps, hopping in place as she tries to fasten the strap on her heel.

"Careful." He says below, blowing out a candle.

Only when he speaks up, does she notice the living room: the every flat surface available was covered in lit candles, the room smelled like sweet-scented wax. The furniture was moved away to border around the blanket, strewn with pillows, with a picnic basket sitting proudly in the middle.

"An indoor picnic…" She said, the words barely a whisper. "Oh my gosh."

"You look lovely." He said, walking towards her and taking her into a warm embrace.

"Thank you, so do you." She said chuckling. He was wearing his tuxedo, sans the bow tie. "What's all this? What about reservations, and getting all dressed up, and…"

"I decided to skip reservations. We can go out any old night. When else can we have such a nice indoor picnic?"

"I'm not even going to bother arguing with you. It's hopeless."

"You're learning!" He said with a wide smile, then taking her hand and escorting her to the cozy cocoon.

For them waited a feast of white wine and strawberries. They sat and talked for hours, feeding each other cream-laden strawberries and pastries.

Then, knee-deep into the evening, as he lay with his head resting on her legs, she asked: "All right, get out with it. What's all this about?"

He shrugged a little and smiled secretively. "Whatever do you mean, my love?"

"I mean, what's with the sudden, secret indoor picnic?"

"What's become of the world where a man can't create a perfect indoor picnic-date for his girlfriend without his motives being questioned?"

She rolls her eyes. "It's a tragedy. Now seriously, Patrick, what's up? I can tell you've got something on your mind. Your shoulders have been tense all night." She said, rubbing his shoulders a little less than innocently.

He released a groan-like sigh. "I think I'm starting to rub off on you."

She chuckled.

Then he sat up, deciding he was busted, and the moment wouldn't get any better than this.

He looked deep into her emerald-shaded eyes, took her hands in his and took a deep breath. He imagines the smile on his face is even goofier than hers.

"Teresa, my dear. You know how much I love you. I love you more than I can even tell." He feels a small chuckle bubble through his throat. "And I've been wanting to ask you something since the day I realized that."

He watched her eyes light up with hope.

"Will you marry me?" He asks, the words almost falling out of his mouth as he fumbled the little black box out of his jacket pocket.

He opened it and revealed the ring, but her eyes didn't flash downwards: they stayed rigged on him.

In that moment her face is even unreadable to him. Is that expression happy? Or is it petrified and sorry?

_Say yes, say yes, say yes, say yes!_

"Yes!" She said, laughing happily, and then she looked down at the ring and gasped.

The weight fell off of his shoulders and his world lit up as she said that one blessed little word.

"Yes…" He repeated, enveloping her in his arm. In his enthusiastic embrace, they lost balance, and he ended up topped on top of her as they giggled happily.

Somehow, he got the ring out of the box, and together they slipped it onto her left-hand ring finger.

He claimed her lips in a sweet, lingering kiss, smiling against her skin.

"I love you, Teresa Lisbon." He whispered.

"And I love you."

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**Okay, super-duper cheesy there. But hey, aren't all proposing scenes supposed to be? RJ is cut out of this one because I didn't want to harsh the mood, I'm too happy for it.**

**Let me know!**

**Much love, Zanny**


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